Silas the Incubus: Part Two (special preview)

Silas sat stiffly in his chair while you sketched on the canvas. The little fairy mice darted around at his feet, climbed up the tall heels of his shoes, and swung from the very tip of his tail. He was trying to maintain his usual stern expression, but you could tell he was having an internal struggle with himself.

“You can relax,” you said.

He sat up stiff again. “You need me to pose and this is the pose I am choosing.”

“But you don’t need to be so stiff about it.” You set your supplies aside and walked over to him.

He watched you with a cautious gaze, setting his jaw stiff as you knelt beside him. “You can lounge back in the chair just a bit, and I can still get the pose you’re going for.” You tried to help him ease back, but he only became stiffer.

You put your hands on your hips and looked down at him. “I know what I’m doing here. I’m just trying to give you some advice on how to relax.”

His hands tightened upon his lap. “I am relaxed.”

You cock your eyebrows up. “If this is you relaxed, I really worry about your health, Silas.”

The fairy mice scurried along under his chair and whispered away, giggling as you and Silas traded off defiant glares.

Silas exhaled slowly as he relaxed his body, easing himself back into the seat and letting his legs go a bit forward.

You clapped your hands together. “There we go! Much better!”

“Shh! Not so loud!” He hissed.

You sat back down behind the canvas. “No one is going to hear us.”

Silas’ eyes cast over to the window. The moon was no longer pink, but there was a lavender ring glowing about it that gave him pause. He looked back towards you while gnawing on his bottom lip.

“How come you want to paint me?” He asked.

You shrugged. “I liked painting beautiful things.”

The fairy mice were coming out from under the chair again, peering around before they started galavanting at Silas’ feet.

Silas tilted his chin up slightly. “I appreciate the compliment, but I have seen you paint everything from a withering fruit bowl to Agatha’s flames. So what really is the reason?”

“I told you my reason, unless you’d like me to go through the specifics one by one.” You began drawing his face upon the canvas. You lined his thick eyelashes, his hooked nose, and the sharp angles of his brows.

“No. Not particularly.” He turned his head to the side, yet again looking at the moon.

You marked the freckles upon his face then leaned back to examine the rough sketch. “Is there a reason you visited me the night everything went pink?”

Silas flinched “You promised not to talk about that again!”

“I can’t help it if I am curious. So many windows you could go to on this floor and you chose little ole’ me.”

“Ms. Artist,” he said through clenched teeth.

You peered over the canvas at him and smirked. “Your kiss still haunts me,” you sighed dramatically, even throwing your arm over your forehead and leaning back.

“That’s enough,” he grumbled.

“If you’re worried I didn’t mind the visit or the affection, Silas.” You drew out his hair then leaned back again to inspect it. “If you’re worried about that, then don’t be.”

His gaze softened and he looked down. “Know I would never hurt you.”